The Three Best Ways To?
by WideEyedDreamer01
Summary: Formerly a one-shot, but this is now a collection of Morgan/Reid drabbles. Give me a prompt with the "three best ways to...?" relating to these characters, and I'll fill it. This is (fluffly) slash, so if you don't like it, don't read it.
1. Make a Genuis Shut Up

**Just a cute little drabble. I don't own Criminal Minds, or its characters.**

**The Three Best Ways To: **_Make A Genius Shut Up._

* * *

It's not that Derek Morgan doesn't enjoy the ramblings of his favorite genius. Because he does. Well. More accurately, he loves how those incessant, enthusiastic, completely-impossible-to-follow ramblings breathe a new life into his normally-introverted best friend and partner. He loves the way his eyes light up with the pleasure of knowledge, how his eyebrows quirk as he delivers a statistic he finds particularly significant, and, more perversely, the way his elegant hands gesticulate wildly to illustrate his point. And should, heaven forbid, Dr. Reid pause in his neverending train-of-thought to consider a possibility, absent-mindedly biting his full lower lip and wrinkling his nose, all hope Morgan ever had of following his lover's dialogue disappears into the distance as he fights the urge not to a) drool or b) throw him down on the conference room table and do unspeakable things to him. He abstains from the latter, mainly because it's quite probable the sight would send Garcia into an aneurism. Reid could probably give him a statistic on that, come to think of it. But Derek has, unfortunately, caught himself on occasion staring expressionlessly at his lost-in-thought genius, who, more than once, had caught him and smiled way too innocently in a "_who? Me_?" way that simultaneously amuses and irks Morgan, as he fights the urge to slam his head against the wall.

_…Or possibly Reid. _

But he digresses. The point was, there came a time when enough was enough and Morgan swore than one more second of Reid's diatribe would either endanger national security or seriously violate the FBI's workplace health and safety policy. So Morgan had had to come up with a contingency plan: a three-pronged set of tactics designed to _shut him up._ Garcia, of course, had helped him concoct the plan, on condition he bought her a cupcake each time he used it.

He owed Garcia a lot of cupcakes. Perhaps even the whole store.

The first wave of attack was so simple it was rather genius. His mama had always told her children that food was a remedy for just about anything, and Morgan was inclined to believe it could cure a gorgeous, rambling genius of his verbal avalanche for long enough for Derek to summon a coherent thought. He discovered the effectiveness of this tactic by accident…

It was midmorning on a slow day at the BAU. Hotch had gone to do an interview at the nearby Federal Prison, and Rossi and Prentiss were giving a recruiting seminal down at the local university, leaving him, Reid and JJ to stomach the insurmountable paperwork whilst Garcia did things in her lair that were almost certainly illegal. Morgan had stepped out and into the bustling café a block away for the second coffee round of the day, leaving JJ furtively sneaking files to Reid, who sat peacefully at his desk with an efficiency that would have convinced Morgan he was a robot, if he didn't know the intimate details of why he was most certainly _not_. The scene when he left had been happy, innocent and altogether suspicious. Morgan was certain that it would not last long. So, when he stepped back into the BAU ten minutes later, he was unsurprised to see the resident genius sitting on his desk talking animatedly to JJ about an indiscernible topic. He heard words like 'tomography' and 'synesthesiatic' and decided he'd really rather not know. He caught JJ's eye and she gave him a wide-eyed expression that clearly said _save me_, and Morgan chuckled. Served her right for slipping those files. Nevertheless, he decided to brave the storm of his lover's dialogue and walked up, waving coffee and a brown paper bag in front of his nose.

"Hey, pretty boy, I got your favorite," he tried, wafting the smell of a fresh chocolate muffin and the corresponding coffee into Reid's way-too-pretty, flushed face.

"And actually, if you read the latest analysis from the American Commission of"-he paused, his eyes unfocussing, looking down at the bag, then to Morgan. "Huh? Is that-" he took the bag, inhaling deeply, then plopped back down in his chair and began inhaling the muffin. JJ looked about as amazed as Morgan felt.

"Did that just happen?" She said, her blue eyes wide. Morgan nodded slowly, carefully backing away from his lover in case he spontaneously combusted, or something.

"Yeah, I think so."

"We need to take shares out in that café," she grinned, and, with Reid's attention distracted, tossed another particularly lengthy looking file into his in-tray. And so that incident went down in history as the Day a Chocolate Muffin Silenced Reid, and Morgan stored the 'use food' tip in his mind for future reference.

Unfortunately, it was only good in special circumstances, and Reid quickly caught on. For example, one night, a few weeks later, they'd been coerced, manipulated and damn near bullied into movie night at Garcia's place- with Emily and JJ, for god's sake, and Reid decided that the inaccuracies of "_Pirates of the Caribbean_" (_seriously- were these grown women_?) merited an explanation. Unpeturbed by JJ's assertion that he should just "_shut up and enjoy Orlando Bloom's ass, like the rest of us_", he had launched wholeheartedly into a lecture on the history of piracy and the legend of the Pirate Kings, and the historical misinterpretations of the East India Trading Company. It had been borderline adorable, especially since Reid had been sprawled in the couch wearing sweatpants and a FBI t-shirt two sizes too big, but when he began to pair his rambling with sly, dainty licks of the icecream they'd brought, Morgan had had enough. Calmly, he reached over to his beautiful boyfriend, grabbing the waffle cone and shoved the entire thing into Reid's mouth, to the amusement of the women.

"Mmm!" Reid protested around the icecream, scrunching up his nose and shaking his head at Morgan in an effort to combat the attack of the frozen dairy.

"Morgan, you'll give him brainfreeze," Prentiss said, laughing.

"That's the idea," Morgan grinned, as Reid scowled with all the menace of a baby porcupine, and his indignant noises faded to grumbling acquiesce. As the women's attention turned back to the movie, Morgan leant over to whisper in his ear.

"You gonna be quiet, pretty boy?" Reid smirked with as much malevolence as he could muster considering his mouth was full of icecream, and Morgan's stomach dropped when he began to make small, barely-audible appreciative noises, his gut clenching hard. Before his tease of a boyfriend could do anything more sexually suggestive, Morgan removed the ice-cream and Reid grinned, licking his lips for remenants of the ice-cream- coffee flavored, of course. There was a strong possibility caffeine and sugar would result in a _very_ hyperactive pretty boy very soon, but before Morgan could ready himself for it, Reid leant down and took one last triumphant swipe of the icecream, a challenge in his wide hazel eyes, darkened by pleasure.

"Wanna go home?" He asked innocently, preparing to repeat the action.

_"Bye,"_ Morgan called to Garcia over his shoulder as he half-dragged, half carried his frustrating, sniggering partner out of the door. It was, of course, not until later that Morgan realized Reid had used Morgan's own tactic against him to get out of movie night. Sly, conniving genius.

The second tactic was equally simple, and absolutely never failed. It was of Garcia's invention, a suggestion he decided to put to test one Saturday they had off when Reid was spouting off facts about the latest production of Star Wars.

"Hey, I found this at the mall," Morgan called, tossing a heavy, leather-bound book towards his lover, who-surprisingly, caught it with remarkable co-ordination. "I thought you might like it."

"Hopefully, if the director stays true to the original script, the scientific improbabilities should be relatively-whoa!" He exclaimed, studying the book. "The Anthology of Medieval Art and Literature?" He looked up towards Morgan and quirked an eyebrow in a way that made his heart tug. "You got this? For me?" Morgan shrugged.

"Yeah, I already finished it," he said with a shrug, and was rewarded with a blinding white smile.

"Wow, this is a special edition, too…" Reid trailed off, quickly curling into the armchair, somehow managing to fold him long limbs into the small space, and was completely immersed within five seconds. And so, Derek added 'Books' to 'Food' and bought Garcia another cupcake.

But the third way was by far Morgan's favorite. After coming back from a long, exhausting case in Texas, Morgan and Reid rode home together in a comfortable silence, taking solace in the fact that the unsub was safely behind bars. Reid had been acting off since they closed the case, and Morgan had figured it was the senseless, tragic nature of their most recent case that was weighing heavily upon his lover's brilliant mind.

"M-Morgan?" Reid's voice said quietly when they had trudged upstairs. That was the first clue that something was wrong, he usually called him Derek when they were alone.

"Yeah, kid?" Morgan said, beginning to feel concerned about the timid, slightly afraid look in his best friend's eyes. He looked a bit scruffy- his tie was loose, his hair messy, and he had this kicked puppy aura that was almost physically painful for Morgan to bear witness too.

"Um, I was just thinking…About what one of the detectives said, and I was wondering-"

"What did they say, Reid?" Morgan asked gently, the worry solidifying in his stomach. Reid's mouth quirked downwards and he squirmed.

"He said that-well, I talked to much, and that they couldn't have a clear thought while I was around, and that…that if they wanted a fact machine, they could use the internet," Reid mumbled, all in one breath, refusing to meet Morgan's eyes. "And I thought maybe- well, I was wondering if- maybe you guys felt the same? I mean, sometimes I can't help it, I know I probably talk too much but I try to be helpful, it just…gets out of hand sometimes," he finished, a troubled tone in his voice. "I try to be quiet, I always do, but sometimes I just-"

Morgan couldn't help it. He crossed the small distance between them, pressing his lips to Reid's soft, slightly bitten ones. He met no hesitation, and, knowing he had to give Reid some verbal assurance, made the kiss purposeful and short, so that when he broke away, the genius's entire focus was upon him.

"Listen to me, Spencer Reid," he said quietly. "_We love you_. We need you for exactly who you are. You are brilliant and priceless, not only to our team but to me. Pretty Boy, we don't work without you," he murmured. "Without you, I can't think straight. And yeah, you confuse the hell out of me sometimes, but it's who you are, and you can't change it. We just have to keep you on track sometimes before you blow our minds with facts about string theory and cold fusion." Morgan paused, half-expecting Reid to start a lecture on one of the aforementioned, but he didn't. Instead, he looked contemplative, chewing his lip thoughtfully before a small smile curled around the edges of his mouth.

"Derek, he said quietly. "Do that-that thing again." Morgan arched an eyebrow.

"Huh? Oh, this thing?" He asked, pushing Reid playfully into the wall and stealing another kiss.

"Yeah. That thing," Reid squeaked, and Morgan grinned.

"What happened to my walking encyclopedia?"

"He broke," Reid said, his voice strained as Morgan tugged on an errant curl of hair.

"Pretty Boy?"

"Mmm?" Spencer huffed, getting more and more impatient by the second.

"I love you." Reid grinned, tugging Morgan down for another kiss.

"I love you too. Now shut up, Derek Morgan, so I can kiss you."

Morgan was only all too happy to comply.

* * *

**Aww…I really enjoyed writing this… It's my first CM fic ever! Do let me know what you think ;)**


	2. Important Author's Notice

Hello!

This is an author's notice with details of the new nature of this fic. I really loved the response I got ot the first chapter and it was SO much fun to write, thus I've decided to extend it into a random collection of drabbles. The idea is that you send me a promt (can be a single word) regarding the three best ways to_? for this pairing, and I'll fill it. This can either be done anonymously through a review, or through a private message, I don't mind.

The following rules apply to this thing:

-No prompts involving hardcore, graphic sex. This fic has a K rating and I would prefer it to remain that way, I'm not into writing lemons just yet!

-You can post more than one prompt at a time, and I might decide to fill all of them, or just one.

- Prompts from different users with recurring themes will be given precedence.

-No angry comments if I don't decide to use your prompt, please!

-In the case of an attack of the plot bunny, I may decide to fill a prompt I come up with.

So that's it! Pretty much anything goes, apart from the aforementioned sex-related themes. I hope you get creative, see you again soon!


	3. Defend Dr Reid

Hello again! My prompt was the three best ways to:** Defend Dr. Reid**. Hope you enjoy, leave me another one please! :)

* * *

Morgan knew that Reid hated, _hated_ it when he got protective. It was hardly surprising. The man had spent the vast majority of his life standing up for himself, forced to become independent at such a very young age it was unsurprising that letting somebody else step in was downright uncomfortable. Furthermore, Morgan knew deep down that part of Reid interpreted Morgan's protective tendencies as implying Reid was incapable of looking after himself, creating an imbalance in their relationship. When Reid had pulled that particular little gem out of the bag one night after Morgan had nearly brained the guy who made a 'fairy' comment in Reid's direction as they were leaving the pizza place, Morgan had stared at him like a deer in the headlights.

_"You're really smart," he stated, a little shocked." I'm not sayin' it's true or anything, but you're really smart." Reid had quirked his eyebrow, managing to fit an entire slice of pizza in his mouth at once. Derek didn't know whether to be amused or disgusted or proud, and eventually settled for a little of all three. _

_"Morgan," he said mildly, dodging as Derek attempted to wipe a small amount of tomato sauce off the top of his nose. "I am quantifiably a genius, remember?" And he gave a little chuckle that sounded like an evil squirrel, stealing a piece of pepperoni from Morgan's slice. _

_Morgan really hated it when he did that. Loved it, of course, but hated it. _

But what Morgan hated even more was that people took Reid's weaknesses for vulnerabilities and exploited him- his slenderness, his supposed inability to do anything remotely physical, his self-professed nerdiness, _("that's not even a __**thing**__, Reid." "It's a thing because I __**said**__ it's a thing.") _his aversion to physical confrontation and the classic Dr. Reid ramble. It happened less these days, given Spencer looked a little older and had taken to wearing his hair slightly shorter, not to mention he'd discovered that he liked running when it didn't have the sole aim of getting away from a hostile party. But when it did, Spencer could deny it all he wanted but Morgan knew it _hurt him_, and Morgan could tolerate a lot of shit, but people hurting his pretty boy was not one of those things.

It made him sick to his stomach. It made him want to lock Reid away and never let anything harm him again, even though he was certain Spencer would not appreciate that at all. When it happened, he felt an instinctual urge to apologize to his lover for any and every comment any idiot jock had dared to toss at him, often snidely when Reid was just within earshot. More often than not, seeing it happen made the Alpha male in Morgan want to jump up and down and thump something in a show of retaliation Spencer had more than once dubbed _"knuckle-dragging and primeval"._ Usually followed by a terribly gleeful impression of Morgan's voice that usually went along the lines of _"Ug ug, me Alpha Male."_

Whatever Reid's been putting in his coffee lately, it's making him snarky. _Morgan kind of loves it. Hates it, of course, but loves it. _

The taunts were often subtle. They were the LEO who rolled his eyes as Reid was delivering the profile, not bothering to cover his yawn. It was the deliberate snubbing of the detective who asked everyone else if they wanted coffee or lunch except Reid. It was the officer who refused to listen to Spencer's explanation of his question, and instead asked Hotch or himself the very same question, in front of the entire room. Most of the time, Reid was pretty damn good at ignoring it.

They had all been thrown jibes on a case- Prentiss and JJ on account of their gender, Morgan for being black, Reid for being mind-blowingly brilliant, Hotch and Rossi for appearing to embody everything the LEOs hated in FBI agents. They all dealt with it. It just so happened that Reid was forced to deal with it the most often, and it got real old, real fast. And being Reid, he used the expected social cluelessness of somebody with his IQ to feign ignorance of the jibes, when in actual fact he understood perfectly, he was a goddamn profiler, for crying out loud.

But when the hostility wasn't subtle, when it was clear and undeniable even for Reid, that was when shit got real for Morgan. It was the name calling, the rough elbow in the stomach. Morgan was certain that, as Reid often worked more in the station than out of it, he saw a lot less of this than what actually happened, so when he was a witness to it, his temper spiraled downwards pretty quickly. Reid's reaction was almost equally infuriating, sometimes. He'd squirm, looking visibly uncomfortable in his own skin, and look up at the almost-always-taller aggressor with a sad question in his eyes.

It was the _why? Why do you feel the need to do this? Don't you know how it feels?_ And as Reid crossed his arms, retreating into himself if he was feeling particularly low that day, Morgan knew that one other thought crossed his mind, the _I deserve this _mentality. His lover could reassure the victim of a brutal sexual assault that what had happened was in no way their fault in the morning, but by noon the deputy's alpha-male power games had him shying away and clearly believing that in some way, he _deserved it._

And _that _was what blew it for Morgan. _That_ was his point of no return. Quite often it involved Hotch having to order Morgan (and usually JJ) out of the room whilst Rossi gave the perpetrator his best "fuck with him, you fuck with us" spiel straight out of a Mafia movie.

However, despite vehement complaints on the part of Hotch and Morgan to Strauss, the local PD's would stop co-operating with BAU involvement if they found them to be openly hostile. It was a type of power play they all detested, and it resulted in an unspoken consensus among the team that they'd have to come up with cleverer ways to get Reid out of the sticky situations he found himself in. And thus was born the _three best ways to defend a genius. _

* * *

**1. Operation JJ**

It's hot in Austin, and humid, too. A deranged armed robber who kills his victims when he panics and is virtually untraceably isn't doing much to help Morgan's imminent headache. He's with JJ, walking in to the relative relief of the station after interviewing a witness, where Reid's deconstructing the psycho-linguistic conventions of the message the unsub left and Prentiss is asleep face-down in her coffee mug. Reid is very obviously in his own world, and Morgan wishes he could kiss him in the middle of the room. JJ intercepts the loving look he's giving the back of Reid's unruly head, and rolls her eyes.

"I'll keep watch for you, if you let me take a picture," she smirks. Morgan rolls his eyes but is seriously considering accepting her deal when the Sherriff's third-in-command, Officer Shelton, Morgan thinks, walks in and immediately begins his invasion of Reid's personal space. The kid has a higher tolerance than in the past- when they first met, all you had to do was be in the same room with him and he'd flinch- but Morgan judges the LEO is tipping Reid's scales from 'eh, whatever' to 'I'm uncomfortable'. Adding to that, Morgan caught the faintest whiff of alcohol as the LEO walked in, a combination that could only spell trouble. He wasn't drunk, not by a long shot, but he was just rowdy enough to voice the judgments he'd undoubtedly made of Reid on the first day of the case.

"Say, does that stuff even work?" He drawls, jabbing a finger at Reid's insightful analysis of the unsub's use of second person. Reid looks up, peering at the man from behind his glasses. He gives an uncomfortable shrug.

"Yeah. Forensic linguistics are beaten only by verbatim transcripts in an analysis of the psyche of unsubs like this. In fact, often we see that-"

"Yeah, whatever," the officer snorted, walking in the other direction. Reid looks unperturbed, and even a little privately happy, and Morgan realizes he'd begun rambling to get the idiot out of his face. He gives his best friend a wink, and receives a smug look in return.

Morgan has to wonder how many times Reid's used the exact same tactic on him. _Damn._

But the trouble isn't over yet. After a moment, the officer swings back around and advances on Reid, forcing him to back up against the whiteboard.

"Y'know, I always hated people like you," he drawled. 'Think you're smarter th'n everyone else. Stuck up bastard, aint'cha?" Reid's eyes narrow, but he says nothing, clearly analyzing the best way to evade outright confrontation. Morgan snaps his pencil, which doesn't go unnoticed by JJ.

"Stay there and don't move a muscle," she warns, then saunters up to the hostile pair. Morgan squints. Her stride is all wrong, he's expecting mama-bear JJ, Alpha-Female SSA Jareau, but she's too…bouncy. In fact, it almost looks like she's-

"Hey there," she drawls, leaning up against the pin-board, her voice throaty and playful. Morgan's jaw drops, and Reid's is quick to follow." Something wrong here?" The officer blinks and shakes his head dumbly. JJ gives him a wink.

"You want to know a secret?" She asks. The man grins roguishly, releases Reid, and steps towards JJ.

"Oh yeah? Sure," he drawls. JJ's smile brightens for a second, and then her eyes narrow and her smile begins to look more like a great white shark than Miss America. The effect is eerie, something like seeing an innocent yet annoying fly buzzing precariously close to a beautiful Venus Flytrap.

"Studies show that the vast majority of bullies are…severely impotent," she says loudly, causing a few people to raise their eyebrows as they passed. "Is that what's wrong?" She asks sympathetically. Reid is gawking behind her, and Morgan resists the urge to grin because now he finally knows what Reid's _'mindfucked'_ expression looks like.

"I bet you've tried everything, huh?" JJ continues, raising her voice now. "You know, the little blue pills, the drinks, but nothing works, right?" She sighs. "_Such_ a buzzkill, trust me. You can have the greatest guy in the world, but if they can't perform?" She waggles her fingers. "_Buh-bye._" The man's face is the same shade as Mars. JJ looks about as satisfied as a cat who got the mouse, and there are guffaws from the other officers.

"Damn, Shelton! Tough guy like you, and you can't get it up?"

"Hey, Mike, was that why Clara left you? "

"Yeah, and Nicole, too?" The men are surrounding him by now, and JJ steps back with _a my work here is done_ expression. She winks at Morgan, and then grins at the still-baffled looking Reid.

"Damn, JJ, I'm never gonna piss you off again," Morgan grins. Reid flops down in an ungraceful tangle of limbs, turning to Morgan.

"I think somebody put something in my coffee," he mumbled. "Because JJ just saved me from a bully by inferring he had a small-" JJ cuts him off, because Hotch and Rossi are back and the look on Hotch's face says that he _really doesn't want to know._

"Any time, Spence," she says, pecking his cheek as she passes, which makes Reid blush bright crimson and elicits a few envious stares from the officers who were teasing Tiny-Dick.

Reid sits back in his chair, sipping his coffee. A slight smile curls at the edges of his mouth and Morgan's a little jealous that he couldn't kiss Reid and get the same response that JJ had.

But this is Reid's moment, and is doesn't come nearly often enough. So Morgan gets up, making a beeline for the vending machine, and just lets his hand rest on Reid's shoulder for a second too long.

* * *

**2. Operation Penelope**

"I hate lawyers," Rossi muttered to Morgan as they walk back into the warmth of the police station. Even though the leaves haven't yet begun to fall, autumn is closing in in Colorado, where they'd spent the last week investigating what they'd dubbed a corporate serial killer. Morgan nods his agreement. Hotch and Reid meet them in the hallway, they've just come from the most recent crime scene. Reid's hair is tousled from the wind, and the cold has put a spot of color in his otherwise pale cheeks. Morgan can tell his hands are cold, and wants to rub his lover's hands or at the _very least_ buy him some gloves, but doesn't because they are at _work_ and his protective instincts need to just _sit the fuck down for once. _

"What did you find?" He asks Hotch instead as they walk back into the bullpen.

"He's devolving," Hotch says grimly. "The marks were more violent, and he didn't try and hide the body, either."

"Or he could be making a statement," Reid mused. "He's tried so hard to draw attention to his work, and we haven't said anything to the press…It's bound to be annoying him." Rossi nods.

"Possible. He's a crusader, he wants everyone to know about his message."

"And what exactly is that message?" The Sherriff's voice says from behind him. He's a blonde man, and if Morgan had to guess, he'd say he'd been a bodybuilder or football player in his youth, and hasn't lost the complimentary arrogance supplied by those occupations. Hotch's phone beeps, it's JJ, and he walks a few steps away.

"His message is about the hypocrisy and weakness of corporations. He's most likely a lower-class male aged 25-30, who recently lost his job or was made redundant. He's angry at the wealth and status these men represent and deals with them in a way that makes him feel superior to them. He's taking back the power they took from him, basically." There's a pause, Reid is finished, but the Sherriff looks contemplative.

"A word, Agent Reid?" He asks, and it wouldn't take a profiler to pick up on the menace in his words. Reid stiffens, but nods warily.

"Is there a problem here?" Morgan challenges the Sherriff, who forces a smile.

"Not at all, Agent." He's about as convincing as a toddler.

"Morgan," Hotch calls, waving him over, oblivious, and gesturing to his phone.

"Hey, Rossi, come help me with this food!" Emily hollers from the doorway, weighed down by bags of chinese takeaway. With a final glare of suspicion, Morgan takes the phone from Hotch.

"Yeah, baby girl?" He asks, only half-listening to Garcia's Reid-worthy ramble about the socio-economic breakdown of the area. He's watching Reid and the sheriff out of the corner of his eye, not liking what he was seeing. The sheriff's posture was becoming more and more confrontational, whilst Reid's body language was angry, but quietly so.

"No!" He hears Reid exclaim with vehemence.

"Baby girl, I'll call you back," he tells Garcia, snapping the phone shut and stalking over to the pair.

"Look, Agent, I know you FBI guys think you're hot shit, but around here, we don't make assumptions of the suspect's economic background without direct evidence." Reid makes an impatient sound in the back of his throat.

"I wasn't making an assumption, I was applying the profile using circumstantial evidence." Reid's voice is flat and leaves no room for disagreement as he holds steady eye-contact with his antagonist, who snorts.

"Oh, well excuse me, smart guy. You listen up, kid," he spits. "Not all of us get the leg up in life that you're accustomed to." Reid blinks, looking genuinely surprised.

"Excuse me?" He says, sounding unsure and trying to back away, but the other man doesn't let him.

"Yeah, that's right. We aren't all born with silver spoons in our mouths, _Doctor_," he says sarcastically. "I bet you went to a nice private school. Mommy and Daddy paid your whole life for you, didn't they? Paid your way through college, made sure you got all those precious degrees." His voice is dripping in malice, pale blue eyes narrowed with spite. Reid's tawny hazel ones are glowing with righteous anger. The sheriff steps yet closer.

"I bet they're still paying all your bills for you, ain't that right? Nice fat check every month, or is it a trust fund?"

"I suggest," Reid says through gritted teeth. "That you refrain from speaking about things you have _no hope_ of understanding." After a pause, the bigger man steps away, and stalks out of the station.

"I'm gonna put his head on a pike," Morgan growls, but Reid flings his arm out, catching him in the chest with surprising strength.

"Don't, Morgan. He's not worth it. Let him think what he wants," Reid sighed. Morgan glared.

"Pretty boy, he-"

"No." Reid's voice is quiet, but deadly. "No, Derek Morgan, you will stay out of this altercation." Two pairs of eyes meet, one reluctant, the other forceful. Finally, Morgan lets out a small growl and concedes. Hotch and Rossi are back by now, and if they'd seen what happened, they don't show it.

It's only about half an hour later that the Sheriff walks back in, but this time he's accompanied by two men wearing police uniforms and puzzled expressions.

"This is outrageous!" He's fuming. "It's slander! Unacceptable! Disgraceful!" His superior comes up to him.

"What's going on?"

"Apparently the Sheriff's got an alert out on him from debt collectors. His credit rating's plummeted. He owes close to five million dollars." The young officer looks confused.

"Goddamn cashier wouldn't even accept my cash for a sandwich!" The man shouts. "ATM machine won't work, it's all fucked-up." Hotch leans in towards Morgan, who is happily observing the show of karma.

"Does this sound like the work of somebody we know?"

"She wouldn't," Morgan mumbled, feeling the onset of a headache. Rossi arches an eyebrow. Reid looks mildly terrified.

"Let me see your receipt from the coffee shop," the other sheriff says, and takes the proffered paper. He studies it for a moment before guffawing.

"Well, I'll be. Agent Hotchner?" He hands the receipt to Hotch, and the whole BAU team crowds around the paper. It had no name of the coffee shop, absolutely nothing normal at all. One line is printed in bold, curly pink ink.

_"In order to restore your digital and credit lives, please call Technical Analyst Penelope Garcia on 123-DON'T-FUCK-WITH-REID." _

_"Ha,"_ Prentiss says, sounding triumphant.

"How did she do that?" Rossi looked more than a little scared.

_"Oh,"_ Reid mumbles, blushing a little, slinking down behind his box of chow mien.

"I'm buying her a new whatever she wants," Morgan grins. Hotch gives him a rare half-smile.

"Go halves?" His lips barely move, he's still doing the solemn-and-serious thing, but he definitely heard it. Morgan nods his assent.

"Morgan." Reid's eyes are narrowed. "Did you do this?" Morgan chuckles.

"There's only one person smart enough to hack into a cash register in rural Colorado, pretty boy, and it ain't me."

"I know _that_," Reid says, exasperated. Morgan considers being offended, but decides it's besides the point. "Garcia may be the most terrifying technical analyst on the face of earth, but she's not omniscient."

"As far as we know,' Rossi mumbles. Prentiss looks worried. JJ giggles.

"You told her." Spencer looks genuinely angry. Derek shakes his head.

"Nah, man, I didn't, I swear. I don't know how she-" he fumbles with his phone and groans, holding it up to Reid.

"Guess I didn't end the call. She must have heard it." Reid considers this, and then nods apologetically to Morgan.

"Hey, kid," he says quietly, leading Reid to a quieter corner amid the Sheriff's howls that he _"did NOT buy 5000 dollars worth of merchandise at a gay BDSM outlet!"_

"Look, Spencer, we all care about you," he said lowly. "We're a family. Family looks out for each other. However we can. It's not because we think you can't handle it. It's because there's some shit you shouldn't have to handle on your own." Reid's brow wrinkles, and then he nods, a little sleepily.

"Okay," he acquiesces. He moves to pass Morgan, and then looks back with a shy smile.

"Hey, Derek?" Morgan's heart warms, just a little bit at the hopeful expression in his best friend's eyes.

"Kid?" Reid hesitates.

"Garcia's new something. Thirds?" Morgan claps his thinner partner on the shoulder and smiles.

"Sure thing, pretty boy."

* * *

**3. Operation Spencer**

The next time, it's only a week after the Garcia Incident. Speaking of which, Garcia came out of _that_ extremely well, because the three men hadn't been able to decide what to get her, so Hotch had bought her a bottle of wine, Morgan got her chocolates (the fancy Belgian kind) and Reid…Well, all Garcia had wanted from Reid was a kiss on the cheek and the assurance that he'd let her take him clothes shopping when they got home. Morgan had seen his best friend stare down a dozen unsubs with less visible terror. He almost rescued Reid, but then Garcia had cornered him and promised to buy baby Genius some jeans that actually _fit him_, and who knows, maybe an actual t-shirt, and Morgan was sold and cheerfully assisted the kidnap-Reid part of Garcia's plan. Reid's wounded, betrayed and indignant glares had had all of the venom of a baby kitten.

But on the up-side, Morgan had liked the jeans. A _lot._ On the downside, Reid had refused to let Morgan do what he'd been longing to- that was, _rip them off_, and by the time Morgan was forming his plan to win back his Genius, the apologetic call from JJ had come in. Maryland, this time. Three missing college students in less than a week, all from the same class at the university. To make matters worse, Morgan had noticed that Reid had changed from the dark-denim jeans and casual white shirt to the baggiest pair of black dress pants he could find, along with a green and blue patterned shirt that was so ugly Morgan consistently threw it to the back of their closet in an attempt to deny its existence, paired with a maroon tie he'd actually tried to feed to Clooney once.

Upon their arrival, Garcia had simply raised her eyebrows at Morgan in a _"wow, you really fucked it up, didn't you?",_ and he gave her a wince and nodded.

The case itself was one of those horrible, drawn out ones where the profile changed with every new piece of information and became more complex every day. Reid was basically glued to the map, trying to work out the geographic profile, whilst Hotch, sensing the tension between the pair, had Morgan out interviewing friends of the victims most of the days. On the fifth day, Morgan stayed at the station to organize search parties in conjunction with Reid's profile, and was glad to be a little closer to him. The supervising LEO, a red-haired, reasonably attractive woman called Detective Jasmine Yates, was hovering over them, and her advances towards Derek were doing nothing to dissipate the tension between him and Reid. Making matters worse, she had made it absolutely clear she detested Reid, but wouldn't say anything while Morgan was around, which led to Morgan hanging around Reid for most of the day, much to Reid's irritation. Morgan fights the urge to bang his head against the wall as he reconsider's Reid's outfit, not-so-subtly checking out his ass as Reid's facing away from him doing some geometry shit Morgan can vaguely remember from senior year. It's not working very well, because the board is reflective and Reid can see him, and also because the pants are so frustratingly baggy.

It's improved a little, though, because today it's a white button down, a red sweater vest and a blue tie, and the lack of garishly clashing colors is a relief. Although, considering Reid's still pretending to be mad at him and they managed to get six separate rooms for once, Reid could probably come to work in dungarees and crocs and Morgan would still want to jump him. He barely represses a shudder. _Crocs._

"I think we should reconsider how important the river is to him," Reid says thoughtfully. "Maybe he's depressed, we know men with MDD often find water calming. Or maybe he had a boat or played a water-related sport in his youth." Morgan nods, flipping his phone open to call Hotch, who then promptly walks through the door. He claps a hand on Reid's shoulder.

"I'll go let him know. Good work, _Doctor_," he says, slightly lowering his voice, and feels Reid stiffen. It's the secret nickname he uses when they're in private and he knows _exactly_ what effect it has on Reid. Reid turns to give Morgan a haughty glare, but there's no malice. He's over with Hotch for five minutes, ten at the max, discussing possible witnesses that could be viable suspects. When he glances up, Hotch sighs. Reid's surrounded by Detective Yates and a few of her deputies, and their body language says that they're _not_ inviting him over for a sleepover. Hotch eyes Morgan. JJ and Emily come in behind them and give little hisses of indignation.

"Morgan!" Prentiss looks dismayed. JJ punches some keys on her phone, tapping her feet impatiently.

'C'mon, Garcia, pick up," JJ mutters.

"I leave him alone for ten minutes and they pounce," Derek growls. Out of the corner of his eye, he can see Prentiss and Rossi playing rock-paper-scissors, presumably for who gets to take down Yates this time. Morgan decides he'll beat them to it, and steps back over to where Reid's standing. _People backing Reid into the whiteboard is becoming a recurring motif_, he thinks tiredly, making eye contact with Yates, whose hostile expression fades immediately.

"What's up, Detective?" He asks lightly. She smiles back a little too brightly.

"Oh, nothing, Agent Morgan. I was just wondering why you aren't out in the field? Surely the…hands on aspect of the job would suit you better." She laughs, and juts her head at Reid, as if they're sharing an inside joke about him. "Not like this one, right?" Morgan's eyes narrow, but the woman isn't a profiler, so she doesn't see the danger signs. She carries on.

"I was just asking Spencer what he does for fun, but he didn't want to tell me," she said sweetly. "I guess it's a little embarrassing to admit your social life consists of Star Trek re-runs in the basement of your mom's house, right?" Reid's posture changes dramatically then. He shifts his body weight and seems to grow a foot, as his eyes fiercen. He shoulders past Morgan to stare at the tall woman.

"You know what, Detective?" He says softly. His voice is shaking, the way it only does when he's extremely angry. "I've dealt with your type my entire life. And you don't scare me. You've spent so long judging people's worth on their appearances. But do you know what I see when I look at you? I see a girl who wasn't nearly as popular as she tried to think she was in high-school. I see a first-rate bully and a second-rate officer. You've finally realized that the mean girl doesn't win, and you've burnt all your bridges with your friends and colleagues long ago." He pauses and looks her straight in the eye.

"Debasing me may make you feel stronger, but really, you're only showing your weaknesses." He looks away for a moment, taking a deep breath, and when he turns back, his eyes are fierce and firey and full of a confidence that Morgan is completely in awe of.

"Oh, and one more thing. Don't even _think_ about asking Agent Morgan to go home with you after this case is done, because the _only_ person he comes home with is _me_," Reid all but growls. There is a shocked silence in the half-full bullpen. Yates looks stunned and pale, Reid looks remorseless and Morgan's brain is still trying to process what his ears just heard. He could swear that Rossi and Prentiss look a little disappointed that they didn't get to do it, and JJ is not-so-subtly holding her phone out, and Morgan would bet his life's saving's the person on the other end is Garcia. There's silence in the room for another few seconds before Hotch, bless the man, clears his throat and asks to see Morgan and Reid outside. Slowly, conversation begins to start in the bullpen again, but it's hushed and a little awed. Once they get outside, Reid looks a little stunned, like he did when he swore at a reporter after Morgan's prank.

"I-I don't know where that came from, but I…I don't regret it," he muttered, shoving his hands in his pockets. Hotch smirks, just a little bit, then shakes his head. He hands Morgan a shiny, black plastic card- the Bureau expenses one.

"Go get lunch," he advises them, and with a barely-discernible eye roll, walks back in to the building.

"Sometimes," Morgan says, breaking the comfortable silence between them as they walk. "I think he's almost human." Reid chuckles slightly, then blinks his wide brown eyes at Morgan.

"I'm sorry. Did I embarrass you?" His voice is so innocent he could most probably get away with murder.

'Huh? No!" Morgan exclaims, with a grin. "It was kinda hot, pretty boy." Reid rolls his eyes.

"You're only saying that because we have slept in separate rooms for the past four nights."

"No way," Morgan argues. "Kid, you have a seriously hot possessive side. And I never thought I'd say that." Reid stops in the middle of the sidewalk, a contemplative look on his face before he grins at Morgan.

"Wanna skip lunch and go to the hotel?" Morgan blinks.

"Um. What? Are you suggesting we-" Reid arches an eyebrow, it disappears into his scruffy hair.

"Are you _arguing_ with me?"

"Nope. The hotel has a buffet," Morgan says, grinning like a fool as he drags Reid up into his room, loving the sparkle in those gorgeous eyes. And when they kiss, it's only then that Derek realizes that the best way to defend Dr. Reid is to let him do it himself.

* * *

**This is seriously LONG! It took me forever, I just didn't want to stop. If you liked it (or even if you didn't) it would be fabulous if you shared your thoughts in a review!**


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